


Now Look at What You've Done

by casey_sms (shinygreenwords), shinygreenwords, SlytherinMalfoySnape (shinygreenwords)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Substitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinygreenwords/pseuds/casey_sms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinygreenwords/pseuds/shinygreenwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinygreenwords/pseuds/SlytherinMalfoySnape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: AU. What if the wardrobe didn't open to reveal Narnia? The Pevensie kids have to face up to breaking the window. Who will take the punishment? Warning: ABUSIVE and violent corporal punishment of a minor. Movieverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: The characters belong to C.S Lewis. The plot is mine.**
> 
> I've been told it's incest (Peter/Susan) if you squint really hard. This was my first Narnia fic.

There was a smash of a window.

"Edmund!" Peter said exasperatedly. "Now look at what you've done!" They were really going to be in for it now. The Pensevie family was lucky to have remained together at the grace of the Professor. He knew that many evacuees were seen as troublemakers. He'd heard stories of evil hosts and being made to work as slaves.

"RUN!" One of the girls said. And he did.

Peter found himself following the others as they ran up the stairs. Most of the doors were locked. Lucy tried to get through one door. Nope. He ran to the second floor following Susan. She twisted the door knob in vain as she tried to open the door of the bed room.

Faint footsteps could be heard approaching. "Come here kids! Now!" Mrs Macready's voice rang through the house. "When I find you…" her angry threat was left hanging.

"Hurry! Quick! Try the third floor!" Susan said in the loud whisper.

Edmund took the lead and ran up the stairs two at a time. He ran to the furthest room. Edmund wiped his sweaty hands on his worn gray shorts before violently pushing the door open. The children fell into the room. There was a voluminous white sheet on the floor in front of an ornate wooden wardrobe. Edmund strode quickly across the room but he hesitated at opening the wardrobe.

The floorboards of the stairs outside creaked. Angry stomps could now be heard. Thump. Thump. The children panted breathlessly from the run and from fear. Sweat broke out on the older children's foreheads. They were going to be in serious trouble if they were found.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry!" Susan said.

Edmund quickly stepped inside the wardrobe. Susan grabbed Lucy roughly and they went in together. Peter was last. The wardrobe was large but it was cramped when filled with the four occupants. The wardrobe smelt musty and fur coats hung all around them.

"Where are those damn kids? Mrs Macready, tell me where they are now!" A loud male voice bellowed. It must be the professor, Peter thought nervously.

"I could swear that I heard a noise from up here. They ran upstairs. Check all the rooms on this floor." The sound of the footsteps seemed louder and louder.

"Ow! Somone-" Lucy squealed and grabbed her foot. Susan had clamped her hand over her sister's mouth. Susan let her sister go as she scrambled to the back of the closer. Lucy started to bang on the back of the closet as it it would open but Susan quickly grabbed her small fists fiercely.

"It should open to Narnia!" Lucy explained and tried to twist out of her older sister's grip.

"Stop it! Quiet!" Susan hissed.

Peter had closed the wardrobe so that a small chink of light was left. "Shut the door!" Edmund whispered urgently.

The doorknob turned.

Peter had shut the door silently. The children all held their breaths in the dark. The air seemed suffocating.

There was a creak as the door opened. "This must be it sir, there can't be any other rooms for the children to hide in." Mrs Macready's voice could be heard.

"Now come out children. Own up and I promise you, I will lessen the punishment. Don't make me go in there and find you," Professor Kirke warned. "I will count to three. One…"

They all held their breaths and subconsciously turned to Peter. Susan grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She was asking him the silent questions, should we?

"…Two…"

Peter put his hands over his face. What were they to do? He held Susan's hand desperately trying to think of a good explanation but none came to him.

"…Three…" Too late. "Fine. As you wish." The Professor said coldly, the anger in his voice had not disappeared but had taken a chilly edge.

The children waited in the closet. They each took a deep breath as the inevitable came. Peter closed his eyes.

There was a sound as the wardrobe squeaked and opened. The children squinted as the bright light assaulted their eyes.

"What are we all doing in the closet?" the Professor sneered. "You little cowards. Go and wait for me in my office."

The children walked out of the closet one by one in a line. Lucy was gripping Susan's hand tightly. Edmund tried to hold his chin up. Peter bowed his head shamedly.

The wait was painful. There were hushed voices in the room adjoining the office but the children could not hear what was being said.

Finally, Lucy's trembling voice broke the awful silence, "Well what are we going to do?"

Susan stroked Lucy gently hair gently as she sat in her lap. The child was trembling with fear. "If it's anything, Edmund should take the blame," Susan said. "After all, he was the one who broke the window." Susan could not resist shooting a scathing look at her troublesome brother.

Edmund bit his lip. "Peter bowled it!" he retorted. The fire in his usual reply seemed extinguished by the fear of the professor.

Everyone looked to Peter. He always knew what to do.

"Don't look at me. I don't know!" Peter snapped. He wasn't really irritated at them but he didn't know how to get them out of trouble. Edmund did break the window so punishment is fair, Peter thought glumly. "I'm sorry," he said softening at the tears glistening in Lucy's eyes. "I don't know what to do either."

The door swung open revealing the Professor and Mrs Macready behind him. The Professor seemed to have caught Peter's last words. "Well then maybe you should start by telling me who did it and what you should have done. Enlighten me." The Professor chuckled mirthlessly. "Who broke the window?" He stared at the children, searching them with his eyes.

The silence was deafening. All of the children squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, their eyes looking at anything in the room but him. Edmund's eyes were firmed locked onto the rich red carptet of the floor. Susan gave him a small nudge.

"Well? My library window didn't break itself?" The Professor tapped his foot impatiently.

Susan gave Edmund another nudge. He bit his lip.

"I did, sir."


	2. The Fabrication

The Professor raised his eyebrows. "What did you say Peter Pevensie?"

"I said, I broke the window, sir," Peter said quietly. The other three children were shocked into speechlessness.

"Is that right children?" The Professor looked at Susan and smirked. He picked up a cane on his table and patted it softly on his palm in a mildly threatening manner.

Peter gave Susan a silencing glare. Don't, his eyes pleaded. She acquiescence sorrowfully and nodded slowly with the two younger children.

"Tell me what happened then, Peter." The Professor smiled frostily as he circled the tall blonde boy. He pointed his cane at Peter.

Peter took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he mentally prepared himself. "I was, um, playing with the ball and practicing bowling sir, when I, uh, accidentally threw the ball too high and it hit the window, um, breaking it," Peter stuttered. He looked down at the floor as he said this. To an outsider, it would seem that he was appearing contrite but his siblings knew that it was because he wanted to hide the fact that he was lying. Peter had always been a terrible liar, it wasn't in him. Peter sigh inwardly, glad that he hadn't implicated anyone else at least. "I'm deeply sorry sir."

"Don't worry my boy. You will be." The Professor gave Edmund a knowing look and the younger boy quickly turned away. It was hard to say if he meant Peter or Edmund. "Very well. Peter, meet me in tonight in my office for your punishment." The Professor gave a sinister smile as he placed his cane on his desk. "The rest of you will have the privilege of dinner taken away…"

He paused as he saw the children fight to control themselves from protesting. Susan looked conflicted, her face contorting with anger but she reigned it in for fear of increasing Peter's punishment. Only for Peter's sake, she thought Professor relished his control.

"… for your cowardice and trouble. Don't ever hide from me again. You are also confined to your room for the rest of the day." The older man looked at Peter. "You will pay for this, I assure you." With these words, the Professor swept his coat backwards and opened the door.

The four children apologised softly as they filed out of the room into their own room. Mrs Macready glared at them.

"I want no more trouble from any of you. Do not disturb the professor again," she lectured sternly. "You children from London. I've heard stories about evacuees being a wild, ungrateful bunch. I was hoping that it would be untrue...but I can see that I'm sadly mistaken. The Professor has agreed to take you in because of his wonderful mercy. What a shame."Then she closed the door to their room. It thudded shut like the condemning sound of a judge's mallet.  
Peter sat on the edge of the double bed that he shared with Susan. Lucy crawled into Peter's lap.

"Edmund should have owned up." Susan started.

Edmund sat on his own bed and looked over at Peter guiltily but didn't say anything. He didn't want Peter to take his punishment since Peter was always so perfect and noble but secretly he was relieved. He didn't understand why Peter would do something like that, just take his punishment for him. Peter doesn't even like me, Edmund thought.

Peter didn't want to argue with Susan so he just sighed. "Look, can we just leave it?" Peter said tiredly. "What's done is done. Someone had to own up."

But why did you? Susan bit back the question. You didn't have to Peter, she lamented inwardly.  


Mrs Macready knocked on the door and brought a tray up. There were four glasses and a jug of water. There were four slices of stale-looking bread.

"This is your lunch. Don't make a mess." She set the tray down on a small knee-high table. "God knows the kindness of the Professor. You children hardly deserve it," she muttered under her breath. "You may leave everything on the tray after you are finished. I will come back and collect it tomorrow. As you know, there will be no dinner for you tonight. Naughty children don't get dinner. Remember, you do not have permission to leave this room except to go to the bathroom." She gave them a haughty look and then exited the room.

No one touched the bread. Susan poured a glass of water for herself and Peter. He accepted the water gratefully and felt a little better after the cool liquid soothed his dry throat.

"You should eat something," she said gently. She rubbed circles on his back the way their mother used to. She could feel the tension in his shoulders. He was scared.

Petershook his head. He felt as if he would throw up. He felt so small, like a child. I need to be strong for them, Peter told himself.

Edmund felt the bread stick in his throat and quickly poured himself a cup of water. Susan did not speak to him or even look at him. She was still angry at him.  
"I'm still hungry," Lucy said later in the evening.

Susan didn't know what to do. She had already eaten hers. Only Peter hadn't could only hold her little sister. Lucy really wasn't to blame for all of this. She was reading after all but Susan was proud of her for taking the unfair punishment so well.

"You can have my bread Lulu." Peter nudged his precious piece of break towards his baby sister. He was a little hungry now but he was really too nervous to eat.

Lucy grabbed the piece of bread happily."Ta." The smile on her face was all worth it, Peter thought. She skipped off to finish reading her book.

"You shouldn't," Susan admonished quietly in a motherly tone. "You need your strength." She gave his hand a squeeze. You don't always have to be so noble, she thought.

"I'll be fine." Peter turned away from the caring gaze of his sister and pulled away.

Susan's gaze rested on him a while longer. Peter, don't shut me out, she mentally pleaded with him. She reach for his hand again but it was limp and resigned. She jerked back and busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles on the floral bedspread.

Edmund lay on the bed and pretended to sleep. There was nothing to do. None of the sibling talked to him. Then again, maybe it was his imagination since he wasn't in the mood for talking himself. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that just wouldn't go away. He squeezed the blanket and shut his eyes. He turned over again.

"It's time." Peter's quiet voice was heard by no one but Susan. She had spent most of the evening sewing. She was not bad at it but she had pricked her finger several times this evening. She couldn't help but feel worried for Peter. "I'll be fine," he repeated the words he said before with a soft smile. "Don't worry about me."

Susan hugged him. "I'll always worry about you Peter," she whispered in his ear.

On his way out, Peter had paused at Edmund's bedside. He straightened his brother's sheets. Its ok Ed, I won't blame you. These were the unspoken words.

Edmund stiffened. Now look at what you've done, he thought.

Peter closed the door soundlessly. Susan's eyes lingered at the door even though her older brother had gone.

Edmund hid his face in the bed sheets and mouthed two words over and over. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.


	3. The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author note:** Graphic violence ahead. Please skip this chapter if you dislike stong violence towards minors and/or blood and gore. WARNING for abusive corporal punishment.
> 
> * * *

The walk to the Professor's office seemed longer than usual. Peter's feet seemed to feel leaden. Each step was like a step to doom. He knocked tentatively on the door.

"Who is it?" The deep baritone of the Professor's voice penetrated the dark oak door.

Peter licked his dry lips. Forcing himself to be strong he said, "It's Peter, sir."

"Ah. Come in." The Professor was sitting behind hid desk. His polished cane was on his table and he was fingering it with a smile.

Peter opened the door with sweaty hands. His feet seemed cold all of a sudden. His stomach was in knots and his hands shook.

"Peter Peter Peter." The Professor said mockingly. "It's such a shame that I will have to punish you. You're a fine young lad."

Peter swallowed and wisely held his tongue.

"I will give you 10 strokes of the cane for breaking the window…"

The tall teenager could feel his heart beating faster and faster in apprehension.

"…and 10 with the belt for lying."

Peter's head snapped up. His blue eyes were wide with surprise.

"Oh yes, my boy, I know." The Professor approached him. "I know you didn't break the window. I could see the guilt written all over that brat's face…hmmm Edmund was it? He looks like a troublemaker. Susan's nudges? It gave it all away. Oh Peter, did you think I was stupid? Answer me boy." He held Peter's chin in his hand, gripping the fair face. He was excited to see that the boy was thoroughly frightened.

Peter had blown out the candles before he left but everyone was still awake.

Susan felt so restless. I hope Professor Kirke doesn't punish Peter harshly, she prayed, he doesn't deserve it. She felt a spike of anger towards Edmund and sighed loudly.

"Will Peter be alright?" Lucy asked. Her childish voice made the question all the more heartbreaking.

"Of course he will be darling," Susan said. "He'll be just fine." She didn't know if she was trying to convince Lucy or herself. "Just go to sleep Lulu."

"Okay, Susan," Lucy answered sleepily. She was placated by Susan's use of Peter's pet name for her.

Susan got up to kiss her sister goodnight. "Sweet dreams." Susan knew that she could never sleep well until she knew Peter was fine.

Peter twisted his shirt in his hands. "No, sir."

"Take your shirt off. Kneel. I will not tolerate any pleas to stop. Under no circumstances are you to try and stop the punishment. Remember to count the strokes. Violations of these rules will only result in more punishment. Understood?"

The blonde teenager nodded nervously as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He knelt down not knowing what to expect. He had never been beaten before. His parents had grounded him, made him do extra chores and things like that, but he had never been physically punished before. Not even at school. He had been a role model student. He had only heard of it from the other students at school and from what they said it was terrible.

The professor was pleased at the boy's obedience. The boy had obviously never been beaten before seeing as he was already trembling. His fair skin was unmarked and in the candlelight he seemed paler than ever. Peter was well built but still slender. His broad shoulders were rigid with tension.

CRACK. The sound of the cane was loud and it made Peter start. There was second before intense pain burst across his shoulders. He gasped as he bent over forwards. It took all the air out of his lungs.

"You forgot to count Peter," The Profesor's said smoothly. "Pity. Now we have to try again."

Peter cursed himself for forgetting but it had hurt a lot more than he had thought.

CRACK. There was now another red weal across his shoulders, an inch below the last.

Peter closed his eyes. "O-One."

CRACK. The sudden movement was so sudden that he could scarcely catch his breath.

The Professor clicked his tongue in disappointment. "One what, my boy?"

"I'm sorry, sir, one, sir," Peter forced out. He sounded like he was mumbling but it was hurting a lot.

The Professor smiled. "Much better." The boy's a fast learner, he mused. He saw the three strokes on the boy's pale back. He watched as the skin went from white to red to a dark welt that spread across his shoulders.

CRACK. Peter tensed as the pain flooded through him like never before. "T-Two, sir." He had bit his lip to avoid crying out.

The professor paused between each stroke, to draw it out. Peter wished that he would just hurry up. The time in-between each stroke was torturous.

CRACK. He struggled to maintain upright. "Three, sir," he said more clearly in fear of more pain.

CRACK. Another stroke burned his skin and another and another. Peter had fallen on his palms now. His breathing was heavy and his voice was filled with pain.

CRACK. Peter bit his lip harder but he couldn't stop a small cry of pain. It sounded like a strangled whimper. Tears filled his eyes but he struggled to hold them in. Strong Peter, strong, he told himself. "Eight, sir."

CRACK. Peter gripped the edge of the rug tightly. "Nine, sir." His knuckles turned white from the intense grip.

CRACK. He arched from the waves of pain. "T-ten, s-sir," he panted. He tensed but there was no more. Yet.

"Are you learning your lesson, Peter Pevensie?" The professor admired his own handiwork. He had not broken the delicate skin yet.

Peter's porcelain skin was now marred with dark red welts. Each red stripe stood out clearly against his pale complexion. They throbbed horribly with each breath he took. He took a shuddering breath and felt his muscles protest at the movement. "Yes, sir," he answered dutifully. He could feel the lines on his back smart. He knew it wasn't over yet.

In her room, Susan was praying.

Dear God,

I'm sorry that I helped Peter lie about breaking the window. I'm sorry.

Please God, please, keep Peter from hurting too much. Please let the professor be easy on him. Mother and father never hit Peter. It wasn't his fault. Please let him be ok.

In Jesus' Name,

Amen.

She was startled when she realised that tears were running down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly and closed her eyes. All she could think of was Peter.

"Hurts doesn't it Peter? I hope you will learn your lesson well my child, so I need not teach it to you again."

The slim boy leant heavily on his palms. He did not bother pushing up so that he could be upright. It hurt too much. He focused on his breathing and tried to block out the pain. His jaw clenched as he shifted slightly.

The Professor momentarily took pity on the boy. He seemed so small. "I shall release you from counting, since this is your first punishment. Be grateful, my boy. I shall not be so merciful again."

"Thank you sir, " Peter rasped out. He could her the sound of the professor undoing his belt, the heavy leather sliding though the belt loops.

He braced himself and his shoulders tensed for the first blow.

TWACK. Peter gasped as the buckle of the belt hit his lower back. TWACK. It had hit the same tender area twice and Peter yelped in pain. TWACK. TWACK. The two strokes were aimed at his upper back and it opened up a deep cut and started bleeding. The buckle had dug into his shoulder blades and was dragged across his back.

I must be imagining things, Susan thought. She thought that she could hear Peter's cries of pain. Is he crying? She could see him hunched over on the floor, tears leaking from blue eyes. The thought was too much for her to bear. Oh my sweet brother, she thought despairingly.

Edmund too thought he could hear Peter. He could hear his brother trying to stifle his own cries of pain. He felt so guilty. It was meant to be me. He prayed for his brother's forgiveness. Oh Lord, please forgive me for my sins. I am sorry now, but it's too late.

TWACK. The tears threatened again and this time Peter could not hold them back. He cried in earnest. TWACK. TWACK. TWACK. There was a flurry of strokes. Two more to go thought Peter, then no more. He was sobbing openly now. Each stroke elicited a loud cry though he would not dare beg for mercy. TWACK. Oh God, please no more, he cried in his mind.

The professor could see that the boy was now a shivering bleeding mess. He was crying. He had fallen on his elbows and was prostrate. Peter had no look of defiance about him at all, he never did, the professor observed. Right now he was a pitiful heap of pain. Now look at what you've done, the Professor thought. No, I am doing the right thing, he convinced himself.

"You will not lie to me again." The Professor put all his strength into the last stroke. TWACK. Peter was hoarse from all the crying and could only sob brokenly. The blood ran down his back in rivulets. He shivered from the cold and pain.

"I am sorry, sir," he whimpered. His normally strong voice was weak. It was thick with pain. The sobs choked in his throat as he forced them down and his eyes were full of tears. He looked at the professor tearfully, his blue eyes glistening with its saline contents.

The professor hardened his 's eyes looked at him with such mournful innocence.I did what was right, he told himself. He tore his gaze away from the pained eyes of Peter and threw the boy's shirt at him.

Peter gathered his shirt from the floor and gingerly put it on. There was a sharp intake of breath as it touched his wounded back. His trembling hands clumsily buttoned the shirt. Peter was nauseous with pain.

The professor grabbed Peter's face and spoke to him harshly, "Go. Do not ever cause trouble again in my house." Peter winced and was relieved when the professor released him.

"Yes, sir," the teenager answered stiffly. "Goodnight, sir."

He hobbled painfully to the bathroom and washed his face. He leaned on the basin as he panted from the burning across his back. Peter managed to kneel on the ground in front of the bowl before retching violently into the basin. He rested his forehead against the bowl and wheezed. He could taste blood in his mouth.

He made his way slowly back towards the bedroom. It is over, he thought. Peter wrenched opened the door and collapsed on his bed.


	4. The Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer: The characters belong to C.S Lewis. The plot is mine.**

Susan knew that something was wrong the moment Peter opened the door. She fought the urge to embrace him but she knew that he was in pain. She could hear his laboured breathing. It was heavier than normal and it was laced with small hiccups. Though she could see no traces of tears, she knew by his bowed head that her brother had certainly been crying. Peter sounded like he was sniffling slightly. He was hunched over and he looked unsteady on his feet.

"Oh Peter," she murmured softly. "You're hurt."

She was surprised he had managed to close the door before staggering and collapsing on the bed.

"I'm fine." The pillow muffled Peter's hoarse voice "Don't worry."

Susan reached to comfort him but she pulled back when she heard his hiss of pain.

"Peter? Are you alright?" Worry lined her young face. She could not see in the dark and she had no matches to light the candle. "Peter!"

"I'm fine," Peter replied shakily. Her touch had been fire, sending searing pain all over his back.

Susan ignored him and lightly put her hand on his shoulder. He groaned softly. Her eyes widened when she realised that his shirt was not wet with sweat but blood. "Peter, you're hurt really badly," she whispered insistently. Peter just moaned as she tried to take off his shirt.

"No more. No more," Peter mumbled.

"Edmund, I know you're not asleep and if you want to do something make up for this the least you could do is to get out of your bed and get a candle from the hallway," Susan said coldly.

Edmund got up and did as she said. He had recoiled at her words, his heart clenching fearfully. Peter's pained moans filled his mind.

"Peter dear just roll to the side…that's it…I'm sorry, it won't take long…that's it…" Susan grimaced as she undid his shirt and slowly peeled it off his back. All the while Peter protested like a child. He whimpered. Susan knew that he must be in a lot of pain. She had never seen him act like this even when he had fallen off the tree once and he broke his arm. He did want to get in trouble had hidden his broken arm for 2 days before his parents noticed.

Edmund came back with two lit candles. As he approached Susan and Peter, he held his breath. Susan was on the verge of tears again. He set down one candle by the bed. Edmund glimpsed his brother's back and instantly looked away. "I'm sorry Peter," he whispered.

"You should be," Susan said through clenched teeth. Her anger was barely concealed. "Now look at what you've done." Susan gestured at Peter, who was lying face down and moaning. Peter was in too much pain to pay attention to any conversation. Her eyes blazed with fury and Edmund saw her hand twitch. She was clenching and unclenching her fists. She moved.

Edmund flinched. I suppose I do deserve to be hit, he thought fearfully. It would be nothing compared to Peter anyways.

Susan merely gave him an angry look and snatched the other candle from his grip. For a moment, he thought that Susan would strike him. Unsteadily, he turned and lay anxiously on his bed. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled up into the fetal position.

She had not missed her younger brother's frightened look but she had Peter to focus on. Later, she thought. Susan took a handkerchief and dipped it into the jug of water on the tray sitting on the small table. Slowly but firmly, she cleaned Peter's cuts. At first he just moaned and stiffened, trying to pull away from her. As she cleaned the deeper cuts, his tears dissolved into the pillow. Sobs wracked his broken body but he muffled his own tears. Susan tried to get him to hold still but his shoulders shook as he hiccuped. He didn't want to wake up Lucy.

"What happened to you?" Susan asked. She hadn't expected an answer. It was more a question for herself.

Peter's voice was thin and ragged. "He gave me 10 for the window… 10 for lying…used the cane…then the belt…with the buckle…" The effort of speaking was painful and he gasped. He was so soft that Susan could barely hear him, she had to lean over. She did not know if she was imagining it, but at this close proximity, it was almost as if she could smell the blood. _Peter's blood._ Blood from a loving sacrifice all for an undeserving reciever.

Susan was horrified and shushed him. "Save your strength." She continued to dip the cloth in the jug and wiping the blood off her brother's back.

Peter could feel the pain across his back as if he were beaten all over again. He shifted weakly away from Susan's hand, his cuts stinging.

"You'll be ok. Just a bit more," Susan said comfortingly. She was sickened as she saw the water jug turn from a crystal clear to a light pink and now to red.

"What's happening? Who is crying? Why?" Lucy asked drowsily. She half-got up before Susan could stop her.

"No no, stay in bed Lulu," Susan said quickly. She didn't want Lucy to see this. "Just go to sleep please."

"But why are you crying?" Lucy asked.

Susan was about to deny it when she realised that she was crying. "I'm crying because…Peter's hurt." No more lies, Susan promised herself. No more lies – for Peter.

"I wanna see!" Lucy protested.

"No you don't," Susan said firmly. She shielded Peter from view by her body. Susan knew that Peter wouldn't want Lucy to see him like this. "It's bad. Now Lulu, please, go to bed."

Lucy seemed shocked and obeyed.

* * *

It was late at night before Susan could rest. Peter fell asleep shortly Susan had cleaned his wounds. He was completely exhausted from his ordeal. Susan had stroked his sweat-soaked hair and whispered comfort to him until sleep could relieve him of his pain. Then she made sure that he was asleep before she closed her eyes.

Edmund did not sleep all night. The sounds of Peter's sobs haunted him. He could see Peter's bloodied back even though his eyes were closed. It was all my fault, he blamed himself. It should have been me. He forced himself not to cry because he didn't feel worthy of tears. Susan should have hit me. I deserve it. _Forgive me Lord, I have sinned._


	5. The Renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer: The characters belong to C.S Lewis. The plot is mine.**

The next morning Mrs Macready came up early to collect the tray. She seemed to want to say something snarky but the sight of Peter's back had shocked her greatly. The Professor must have been very angry at the boy, she thought. She said nothing when she saw that the jug was filled with the bloodied water but it had chilled her. She glanced at Peter's youthfulness when he slept. Though she could not see his face, she could see that he was only just a teenager. His slender and pale form made him look even younger. Mrs Macready found herself reluctantly feeling sympathetic towards the young...man. He's not a boy anymore; she observed with a hint of sadness, he doesn't really have a choice. Somehow, Mrs Macready felt very convincingly that he was innocent.

Susan woke and saw her brother's bruised and bloodied back and sighed. It wasn't just a nightmare after all. Peter had slept on his stomach, shirtless, for comfort. She felt loathe to wake up him, to bring him back into this world of pain. Susan could see that Peter would be sore for days. She knew that he would hide it too but she would notice. How stiffly he sat at the dinner table. How he would wince when something brushed his back. How he bit his lip to stay silent. She would see it all. He would tell her in that infuriatingly selfless yet genuinely cheery tone, "I'm fine. Don't worry." Susan would be at his side anyways, the gentle nurse as always.

Susan's musing was interrupted when she heard Peter stir. "Don't get up yet," Susan said. "Rest." She emphasised the word in hope that her stubborn older brother would listen. He mumbled sometime like I'm fine and then groaned as he rolled onto his side. His eyes opened to see Susan in her nightgown, her hands on her hips.

"Peter!" Susan scolded in mock anger but her smile betrayed her. She reached out to steady Peter, ready to hold him if he felt sick.

Very slowly and painfully, Peter sat up on the bed and dressed awkwardly. He looked away so Susan wouldn't see his grimace.

Lucy had woken up and bounced straight onto Peter's lap, a bundle of energy. She looked up at him adoringly with her chocolate brown eyes and hugged him tightly. "Peter! Are you feeling better today?"

Peter stiffened at Lucy's touch. Lucy looked slightly hurt and her face fell. "Much better, Lulu." Peter attempted a smile but Susan could tell that Lucy's touch was paining him. She carefully pulled Lucy away without opening any of his cuts.

"Lucy, you'll strangle him," Susan tried to joke. "Be careful. Come here darling. You ok?" Susan asked elder sisterheld Lucy and tickled younger sister giggled and squealed, her hurt all forgotten.

Peter nodded tiredly. "I'll be fine." He gave both his sisters a small smile to assure her.

Instead of calling the Pevensie children down for breakfast Mrs Macready brought it up. For the poor child, she thought. "Here is your breakfast children. Don't make a mess." But Susan noticed that she said this less sternly than usual and smiled. On the breakfast tray, Mrs Macready had also put an extra jug of water, antiseptic cream and bandages.

"Thank you, Mrs Macready," Susan said earnestly. It had saved Susan the hard job of asking and she sighed in relief. The last thing Peter needed was more pain from an infection.

Susan sent Edmund to play with Lucy, while she tended to Peter's back. Edmund was glad to be outside. He had heard enough. As he left the room, Susan saw his face crumple with guilt as he eyed the bandages. Susan had noticed Edmund stealing glances at Peter all through breakfast, watching his older brother push his food around on the plate. Susan sighed again.

"You ok?" Peter asked in a concerned voice.

He is always trying to care for everyone, Susan found herself grinning. "Are _you_ ok? I'm worried about you." Susan put her hand on Peter's forearm.

"I'm fine." At her frown, he relented. "Ok...it hurts...a bit."

Susan doubted that it really was 'a bit' and more like 'a lot' but she knew that he'd never say it. She knew Peter all too well and he'd never worry her like that. I think that is precisely why I worry about him all the time! Boys, she thought grumpily. With this thought she cleaned Peter's back a little more roughly than intended and he gave a small groan.

"Sorry, Peter." Susan's cool hands found the back of Peter's neck and she massaged it lightly, feeling him relax under her nimble fingers. "I'm sorry." For everything, she added in her mind. For all those times I've hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. She couldn't bring herself to say those words, instead she unscrewed the jar of antiseptic cream. This would probably sting a lot, Susan cringed silently.

"Don't." Peter's voice was muffled. Then he lifted his head from the pillow and said clearly, "Don't. Please." He had never pleaded with her in this way and Susan found it hard to refuse him.

"Peter…" Susan began. "The last thing you need is an infection. You-"

"I meant…" Peter propped himself up on his elbows with a grunt. He turned around to look at Susan. Blue eyes met hazel. "Don't. Don't be sorry." She stopped. His sister's eyes widened in realisation of what he said. He smiled shyly at her before lying down again.

"Oh Peter." How could I hurt him after he says something like that? Susan thought sadly. She found herself unable to say anything more. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the neck. She could see him smile. Then she dipped her finger into the pungent ointment and liberally applied it to Peter's wounds.

The antiseptic cream stung agonizingly and Peter found himself trying to be stoic but failing.

"You don't always have to be so strong Peter," Susan said. "It's only me here. It'll be ok." Four words hung in the silence between them: I'm here for you.

Peter understood. He succumbed.

* * *

Outside, Mrs Macready froze as she heard Peter's cries. She had been about to collect the tray but the door was closed. She debated on opening the door until she had heard the quite sobs inside.

* * *

"I wish that you hadn't been so hard on the poor boy," Mrs Macready said as she placed the Professor's breakfast tray on his table. "Now look what you've done. The poor boy."

"He'll be fine. He's a tough one. These London kids are spoiled and not to be mollycoddled. He's learnt his lesson." The Professor spoke with a tone of finality and Mrs Macready gave him one last look and left. This time, she did not agree with him.

I did the right thing, the aged professor told himself. It was for the best.

* * *

Edmund didn't have the courage to approach his brother until a day later. He had been very quiet. Susan was washing Lucy's hair in the upstairs bathroom.

"Peter?" Edmund was hesitant.

Peter was sitting on the bed, reading a book. Edmund noticed that he was not leaning against the headboard like he normally did but on a pillow. There was also the faint odour of antiseptic cream that lingered in the room. "Yes, Edmund?" He put his book down lightly on the covers.

"I'mreallysorry." Edmund said as he stood at the foot of his older brother's bed.

"Come closer," Peter said. He really wanted to hug his brother and stop him from moping around. He could see that Edmund was torn up with guilt but he had wanted to wait until the younger boy took the initiative.

Edmund shuffled closer to Peter with his head bowed. "I'm sorry," he said desperately. "Are you going to…t-to punish me?"

"No. It's alright, Little brother. It's done." He held a repentant Edmund by both his shoulders. "Look at me." Edmund look at his older brother with eyes brimming with shame. "I never blamed you," Peter said lovingly. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"

"But…but why did you do it?" Edmund looked relieved yet confused. "You must hate me now. You never even liked me. Don't you want me to pay?" His lip trembled slightly and he ducked his head.

"Oh Edmund," Peter said softly. "I never did like you… I loved you. That's why I did it. I don't want you to pay, I just want you to be safe and happy. I could never hurt you like that. I promised Mother that I would take care of all of you. That's for always, not just when you listen to me."

"I'm so sorry Peter." More than you'll ever know, Edmund thought a he closed his eyes. The younger boy held his older brother, careful not to press too hard on his back. "I'll try not to let you down again." Edmund sniffled slightly.

"It's alright. I know." Peter ruffled Edmund's hair. He knew that Edmund had learned his lesson.

Susan and Lucy saw the two brothers locked into a hug and ran in to join them. Susan took one look at Edmund in Peter's arms and forgave him.

I'm going to take care of all of you, Peter thought protectively, even to the death.

Susan looked at him and squeezed his hand as if she knew what he was thinking. "You'll always have us Peter. You're not alone."

Mrs Macready paused at the door, holding the tray for lunch. She smiled, not quite wanting to interrupt this moment. The Pevensie children were really something special, she thought. And they were.

* * *

  
 _Epilogue_

It took a month before Susan's gentle hands nursed Peter to a full recovery.

Sometimes when Edmund looked really closely at his brother, he could still pick out the scars on Peter's back when his older brother wasn't looking. The pale scars were not very noticeable but Edmund always seemed to be able to see them.

Peter had only disclosed the full details of that night to one person: Susan. He had told her once at the lake, after they had been swimming. As traced the scars on his back, she vowed that she would take care of Peter because he was always taking care of everyone else.

The incident was not brought up between the two brothers ever again but Edmund would never doubt his brother's love for him. Edmund knew. Every single time his brother gave him that look and told him to do as he was told. He knew _why._


End file.
